


Can I Have this Dance?

by NikAdair



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dancing in the Rain, High school days, Kissing in the Rain, Prom, The boys are bad at emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikAdair/pseuds/NikAdair
Summary: The doors were lined with red and black crepe paper, intertwined together and swinging with the passing students. Balloons in the same colours were spread along the entryway, bobbing to their own music. Yaku was half tempted to just stop there. To wait out prom there and not have to deal with people. But the teachers taking tickets were shooing people into the hall, so he knew that plan was a bust.The hall really wasn’t much better. More balloons and crepe paper hung on the walls, white fairy lights strung along to make everything glow. Somehow they’d managed to block out the windows high up on the walls, so aside from the fading light coming in through the entryway (which was still somewhat covered), the fairy lights were the only things lighting the hall.Yaku had to at least give credit where credit was due. It did look pretty ethereal (if a high school hallway could be described as ethereal) and he might’ve stopped to take a few pictures, if only because he liked the way it looked.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Can I Have this Dance?

**Author's Note:**

> I very much do believe that Yaku would hate going to dances and would only go because Kuroo would make him, even if he ended up having a good time afterwards. I also do very much think that Kuroo would do something like this to confess his feelings, because both of these boys are terrible when it comes to feelings.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this really self indulgent fic!

Yaku tugged at his jacket, wondering for the thousandth time since he left his house why he’d ever agreed to go to prom.

\---

_ “Come on Mori, it’s our senior prom, we have to go,” Kuroo said, leaning against him. _

_ “First off, don’t call me Mori. Second, why should I? It’s just some stupid dance,” Yaku said, shrugging him off and readjusting his backpack. _

_ Kuroo made a sound of fake hurt, making Yaku roll his eyes. “Some stupid dance? Yaku, it’s prom! The only thing worth looking forward to!” _

_ Yaku started towards his car. “Ah, yes, how could I forget. It’s definitely not like graduation is important or anything. How silly of me.” He looked over his shoulder to see Kuroo following, his nose scrunched. “You won’t catch me going to some dumb dance.” _

_ The next day, a prom ticket was shoved into his hands by Kuroo. “Now you have to go, cause these things are expensive and it’d be just plain rude to not take it.” _

\---

He looked down at the ticket in his hand, sighing. “Right. Kuroo’s why. Damn him,” he muttered, looking at himself in his car mirror. His hair, which he’d spent way too much time on, was starting to stick up a little from the drive to the school, and he smoothed it down. Or tried to anyway. It curled at the edges slightly, making it look slightly waved.

“This is so dumb,” he said, getting out of his car and following the mass of students walking inside. He was thankful that they had gone without a theme this year. Memories of the previous year flashed in his mind -- too many dresses of bright blue and green and suits of even worse colours to match the mermaid theme -- and he grimaced slightly.

He’d barely made it out of the parking lot when he could hear the music. Pop songs that were making the rounds on the radio played, and he rolled his eyes. Yet another reason to not be there -- the music sucked.

The doors were lined with red and black crepe paper, intertwined together and swinging with the passing students. Balloons in the same colours were spread along the entryway, bobbing to their own music. Yaku was half tempted to just stop there. To wait out prom there and not have to deal with people. But the teachers taking tickets were shooing people into the hall, so he knew that plan was a bust.

The hall really wasn’t much better. More balloons and crepe paper hung on the walls, white fairy lights strung along to make everything glow. Somehow they’d managed to block out the windows high up on the walls, so aside from the fading light coming in through the entryway (which was still somewhat covered), the fairy lights were the only things lighting the hall.

Yaku had to at least give credit where credit was due. It did look pretty ethereal (if a high school hallway could be described as ethereal) and he might’ve stopped to take a few pictures, if only because he liked the way it looked.

He sighed, knowing that he had to at least make his way into the gym, even if he didn’t want to. Though he really could’ve just stayed in the hall. The music was loud enough that it sounded like it was playing through the overhead speakers, so it had to be at an ungodly volume in the gym.

The fairy lights only stretched as far as the gym doors, where the lights shifted from soft white to a red glow with splashes of other colours from whatever party light they were using. He was right about the volume -- it was a little deafening, and he winced when a particularly high guitar note played. The voices of the students were competing with the music, causing it to be almost unbearable.

Yaku made his way into the gym, staying close to the walls, and found a table near the corner that was empty. He sat down, leaning his head against said table, aware of the way the plastic table covering stuck to his forehead. He wanted to shrug off his jacket, already starting to sweat from the ambient heat of all the bodies in the room.

A hand tapped his shoulder, and he jumped, jerking back upright and pulling the table covering with him. He looked over his shoulder to see Kuroo trying -- and failing -- to suppress his laughter. He narrowed his eyes, standing to face him. “I see you’ve finally made it to this god awful dance.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, smiling down at him in that annoying way he always did -- mischief laced and definitely scheming. “If it was so ‘god awful’--” he punctuated the phrase with finger quotations, “--you wouldn’t be here, now would you?”

Yaku scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “ _ You’re _ the only reason I’m here. Your whole ‘here’s a ticket you can’t refuse’,” he said, only to find Kuroo’s smirk-smile widening into an almost Cheshire grin. “ _ What? _ ”

“All I said was that it’d be rude to take it. I never said  _ you _ had to be the one to use it,” Kuroo said triumphantly. Yaku sputtered, trying to respond, because he had a point. He had a point and he hated that he did. Kuroo started laughing that god awful hyena laugh and Yaku glared at him, kicking his shin.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” he said, sitting back down, making a point to ignore him.

“Yaku, come on, you can’t just sit there all night.” Yaku refused to acknowledge that he’d said anything. “Yakuuuu, come ooooon.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his Twitter feed. “Mooooooriiiiii.” Kuroo draped himself over his shoulders, pushing him into the table.

He shoved him off, fixing his hair and turning to scowl at him. “Quit being such a baby Kuroo.” Kuroo pouted, crossing his arms. “And quit calling me Mori!”

“But Mori is such a cuter name than Yaku,” Kuroo said innocently despite the quickly shifting pout.

“Here’s an idea, you just don’t call me anything,” Yaku said, turning back to his phone. Kuroo came around and sat next to him, intentionally sitting too close and getting in his space. He turned away, sitting sideways in the chair, his back to Kuroo.

Not that it did much. Kuroo got up and walked around the table, sitting in the chair in front of him. Yaku moved, facing the opposite direction, and again, Kuroo followed. He sighed, facing forward and leaning his arms on the table, eyes focused on his phone but hyper aware of Kuroo.

Said boy was currently humming along to whatever song was playing (Yaku couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the lyrics, not that he could understand them with how loud the music was anyway), looking around the room. Yaku could feel him bouncing his knee from the way it would occasionally hit his own, jostling his leg.

He tapped onto an article about something space related, and felt Kuroo lean forward, his shoulder bumping into his arm. He glanced over, seeing Kuroo reading over his shoulder, still humming to whatever song was playing. Kuroo caught him looking and winked, and Yaku rolled his eyes, looking back at his phone and reading the article.

Or at least, trying to read the article. It was hard when the lights kept flickering between colours and the bass of the music felt like it was quite literally shaking the floor. That, mixed with the fact that Kuroo would nudge him when he was done with the section they (he wasn’t quite sure when it became they) were on, made it hard to focus on the words he was reading. He sighed quietly, tilting the screen towards Kuroo so he could continue to read it while he waited for the nudge to scroll.

“How about you send it to me and I’ll finish it later?” Kuroo said, pushing Yaku’s phone back towards him.

“Why do that when you can finish it now?” Yaku said, turning to look at him. Kuroo shrugged, leaning back in his seat. Yaku scowled, bookmarking the article and sending it to Kuroo like he’d suggested. “Why are you sitting here instead of actually, I don’t know, dancing? Or at least hanging out with people less boring than me?”

His voice was much more bitter than he’d thought, and he winced a little at himself, aware of how it sounded. But it was true. Yaku wasn’t the kind of person people gravitated to -- dance or otherwise. He was quiet, reserved, and intimidating (or so he’d heard from other people). It was hard to hold a conversation with him, and oftentimes he avoided it all together.

Kuroo shrugged again, head tilted a little as he looked at him. “I don’t find you boring Mori. Why would you think that?”

Yaku opened his mouth to respond only to find that he didn’t have a response. How was he supposed to explain to Kuroo that he just was? Saying that was the exact opposite of an explanation.

“I’m not like you,” he said, looking away. He crossed his arms and put them on the table, leaning his chin on them. “You always seem to be able to hold a conversation just fine. I can’t do that. People gravitate towards you. They avoid me.” That bitter tone was bleeding into his voice again, and he huffed a breath, tilting his forehead against his arms.

“I would hope you’re not like me. I don’t think the world needs more than one Kuroo,” he laughed, prodding Yaku’s leg with his foot. He refused to look up, feeling like he was being pitied (he knew he wasn’t, but the self deprecating part of him wouldn’t let him think otherwise).

“You know why I didn’t want to come to this stupid dance?” Yaku muttered, not really aware of if Kuroo could hear him or not. He didn’t say anything, so he took that as him telling Yaku to continue. “I didn’t want to come to this stupid dance because no one ever asks me to go with them.”

He looked up, expecting Kuroo to look at him in pity. Instead, he was met with patience. That seemed to irritate him more than the pity would have. “You get asked by half the school, and me? I wait around hoping someone -- anyone -- will just pity me for once and ask me. You could’ve gone with anyone from the school, and they’d be praising you for asking them. Do you know how lucky you are?”

Even Yaku could tell that there was venom dripping off his words. Knew that he was starting to bleed into unwanted territory. But Kuroo just sat there, looking at him patiently, waiting for him to be done. He looked away, unable to look at him anymore. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “You are so damn lucky and you don’t even realize it.”

“Are you done?” Kuroo asked, his voice measured and patient (there was that word again; Yaku was starting to hate it). He nodded, rubbing at his eyes. He didn’t need to be crying at prom. “You wanna know something?”

Yaku didn’t say anything, but Kuroo stayed quiet, as though waiting for a response. “What?” he said quietly.

“You’re right, I could’ve gone with anyone. But you know what I did? I came by myself. There were so many people practically throwing themselves at me, asking me to go with them, and I turned them all down.” Kuroo leaned forward, his head peeking around into his field of view.

“I don’t know where you got this notion that I’m ‘so damn lucky’ as you put it. Who cares what others think? You--” Kuroo poked his shoulder, making Yaku look at him, “--are not boring. You deserve more than a pity date.” He leaned away, out of his field of view. It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t.

Yaku sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be. It seemed like something you needed to get off your chest,” Kuroo said gently. Something about it made his stomach flip, and he bit his lip, thankful for the fact that his face was hidden. “Now come on, it’s senior prom, and I refuse to let you sit here all night.”

Kuroo pulled his arm, practically hoisting him up out of the chair, and Yaku yelped, swatting at him. “Kuroo, let go of me!”

“Not unless you agree to come and have fun with me,” he said, smiling that Cheshire grin.

Yaku struggled for a few seconds longer before sighing. “Fine. Now put me down.” He did, and Yaku fixed his jacket, kicking his shin. “Why am I even friends with you?”

An arm was slung over his shoulders. “Why wouldn’t you want to be friends with me?”

-.-.-

He pulled away from the dance floor, feeling like he was going to overheat if he stayed in the mass of bodies any longer. Yaku made his way to one of the coat racks (where the school had gotten them, he didn’t know) and shrugged off his jacket -- making sure that his keys and phone were in his pocket -- and hung it up, sighing a little at the cool air that hit him.

He couldn’t remember when Kuroo had pulled him onto the dance floor. Only knew that it had been after a solid minute of begging -- full on ‘Kuroo on his knees’ begging -- to get him to begrudgingly agree. Kuroo had pulled them over to Kenma and Lev, who were towards the edge of the crowd but still very much a part of it.

Kenma, to his credit, looked like he’d been dragged over against his will, giving Yaku an exhausted smile. It was a little odd to see him there, since he knew dances were just as much Kenma’s thing as they were his own. That is to say, not at all his thing. But it was comforting knowing that he wasn’t the only one who’d come despite their grievances.

Which brought him back to that moment. Yaku walked along the wall, avoiding the various groups of people as he made his way back to the table he’d been at at the start of the dance. He could still see Kuroo from where he was -- not that it was hard to find him. His perpetual bedhead was a dead giveaway, even in a crowd.

He sat down with a sigh, rolling his sleeves up to further aid in cooling him down. He watches Kuroo dance. Laugh. Look around before catching his eyes with a wink. Yaku rolled his eyes and Kuroo laughed again, this time directed at him. Yaku discreetly flipped him off, smiling a little as Kuroo faked being hurt before turning his attention back to Kenma and Lev.

The mood of the dance shifted as the music started in on a slow song. He watched as couples paired off, starting to slow dance (though could swaying really be called slow dancing). He turned away, feeling completely alone all at once. Yaku pulled out his phone, wishing that the song would go by faster, even if it had only been playing for a few seconds.

There was a tap on his shoulder and he jumped, looking behind. Kuroo was smiling an easy smile at him, and he narrowed his eyes. “Couldn’t find some girl to dance with?” Yaku said, aware of the slight bitter tone he had.

“Thought you would want to dance,” Kuroo said, his smile never wavering. Yaku looked at him skeptically, trying to figure out if this was some sort of ploy to embarrass him. Poor Yaku, the only one without a date because no one wanted to go with him.

“And why would you think that?” he asked, vaguely aware of the song moving onto the second verse.

“Because you had a sad look before you pulled out your phone,” Kuroo said matter of factly. Yaku sputtered and Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Come on, the song is only so long.”

He hesitated, and Kuroo rolled his eyes again, taking his hands and pulling him up and out of the chair. Yaku made a noise, and he knew Kuroo would never let him hear the end of it. But instead of teasing him, Kuroo pulled them to the edge of the crowd, one hand resting on his hip while the other laced their fingers together.

Yaku was glad that the gym was hot, because his face flushed, and he would deny it being from anything except the heat of the bodies around him. He rested his free hand on Kuroo’s chest, unable to reach his shoulder, and Kuroo smirked down at him. “Not a single word, Kuroo.”

“Wasn’t going to say anything,” Kuroo said, moving them slightly in time with the song. Yaku rolled his eyes, taking a step closer to him to ease some of the tension in his shoulders. Kuroo quirked an eyebrow, and he glared a little.

“My shoulder was starting to hurt.”

“Here,” Kuroo said. He moved Yaku’s free hand to his waist, settling his own on his shoulder. “This should help.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, his face flushing again. It was weird, being this close to him. It’s not like they hadn’t been close before -- they often ended up sprawled over each other while studying. But being at the dance, dancing to some love song, it felt so much more intimate than it should’ve. They were friends, even if Yaku sometimes wished they weren’t.

He pushed that train of thought away. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking like that. It was the heat. Had to be. It was messing with his head, making it hard to think straight. “You know, the sun may be the hottest thing in our solar system, but you look hotter.”

Yaku blinked, head shooting up to look at Kuroo. “I-- what?”

Kuroo laughed, shaking his head. “So you  _ can _ still hear me.”

“No, shut up, back track, what?” Yaku said. “Are you using bad science pick up lines on me?”

“Yes, but no. I was trying to get you to get out of your head, and it seems that bad science pick up lines are the way to go,” Kuroo mused. Yaku glared up at him. “What’re you thinking about anyway.”

Yaku looked away, feeling his face burn. “None of your business,” he muttered.

“Oh? Then why is your face bright red?” Kuroo teased.

“You’re an ass,” Yaku said, his face burning more. He turned away, hearing Kuroo chuckle a little, and he focused on the song that was playing. It sounded like it was coming to the last verse, and he guessed it would end in the next minute or so. “So, why did you  _ really _ ask me to dance?” he said, voice quiet.

Part of him didn’t want to know. But a much larger part of him wanted to know. Needed to know. “Is it so bad to want to dance with my friend?” Kuroo said, squeezing his shoulder a little. He didn’t know why, but Kuroo’s answer sent a pang through his chest.

He bit his lip, shaking his head. “No, I guess not.” Yaku’s voice sounded strained, even to him, and he coughed, taking a deep breath. The song was almost over, and he could see couples already starting to split up.

Yaku tried to pull away, but Kuroo held onto him tighter. “The song isn’t over,” he said when Yaku looked up at him.

“It’s basically over,” he said, pulling his hand away. And he was right. The last few chords were playing, and he could hear the music starting to fade into the next pop song.

When it did end, Yaku was quick to pull his hand away, taking a few steps away. “Thank you for the dance,” he said, pointedly keeping his gaze anywhere but on Kuroo. He could see him smiling a little, and he bit his lip again. “I’m going to go sit.”

Yaku didn’t wait for an answer from Kuroo. He made his way quickly back to the table, his heart beating wildly. He thought he’d have time to calm down. To get the thought of being more than friends with Kuroo out of his head. Anything to derail that train of thought. But he was so very wrong.

Kuroo plopped down in the chair next to him, splaying his arms on the table. Yaku glared at him. “Why are you sitting here?” he said, careful to keep it from sounding too harsh.

“Cause you’re here,” Kuroo responded innocently. Or, as innocent as he could be with a mischievous smile on his lips. Yaku opened his mouth to answer, but Kuroo was being called over by Lev, who had an arm wrapped around Kenma’s shoulder. Kuroo looked over at them, sighing a little. “I guess that’s my cue to dance again. I’ll be back,” he said, tapping the table as he stood.

Yaku watched him leave, feeling regret gnawing at his chest. He didn’t want Kuroo to leave. Didn’t want to be alone. Hell, Kuroo was quite literally the only reason he was here. But he pushed those thoughts away, pulling his phone out again. It wasn’t going to help any.

-.-.-

It was halfway through the night when Yaku’s phone finally died. He cursed the battery first, and himself second for forgetting a portable charger. He shoved the dead device into his pocket, slumping onto crossed arms. “Now what am I supposed to do?” he muttered to himself.

He turned to look at where Kuroo had disappeared to. It’d been a while since he’d left, and while Yaku didn’t particularly care (or at least, he refused to admit he did), he had been hoping that Kuroo would’ve been back by now. Instead, he saw him laughing at something Kenma had said, Lev with his head ducked and face buried in his hands.

Yaku smiled a little. He’d always had a soft spot for Kuroo’s laugh -- even the obnoxious hyena laugh that only ever came out when Yaku did something. It also made him sigh and look away. He hated feeling like this. Unrequited feelings for his best friend. He closed his eyes, focusing on the music instead.

If he remembered right, the song that was playing was ‘I Think I’m in Love’, and he snorted. “How fitting.” The line  _ While I’m thinking of you as my husband _ rang through the gym and an image of Kuroo waking up next to him flashed in his mind. Yaku sat up, eyes flying open. He couldn’t get that image out of his head, no matter what he did.

“No, please,” Yaku whispered to himself, eyes wide in panic. His gaze drifted slowly over to Kuroo against his better judgement, and he watched the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way his lips stayed upturned even when he wasn’t quite smiling. The way his hair swept to the side and stuck to his forehead. It made his chest tighten.

“Kuroo would never like me,” he whispered, digging his nails into his palms. “Yeah, he’s bi and everything, but there are so many better looking people in this damn school.” He closed his eyes, biting his lip. “Plus there’s Kenma, who he’s glued himself to basically 24/7.” He opened his eyes and unclenched his hands, looking down at the table. “There’s no way he’d pick me.”

Kuroo’s laugh rang out above the music, and it made Yaku’s chest tighten more. Everything became too much -- the music, the heat, the voices -- and he felt like he was going to scream. He stood quickly, walking along the edge of the gym and grabbing his jacket before pushing through the doors.

The hall was much cooler and much quieter. The staff that had been there were gone, having already gathered in the gym to watch the students. Yaku walked down the hall, turning off down the math hallway. He walked into the first unlocked door and made his way to the far side of the room, sitting under the windows.

The music could still be heard, but it was very faint. Yaku took a deep breath, pulling his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling heat seep from his body where his back hit the wall behind him. He dropped his jacket to the floor and sighed.

It took a few minutes, but soon he felt calmer, more relaxed. He looked up at the clock, trying to see the time, but it was too dark in the classroom, the moonlight not having reached it yet. He sighed again, leaning his head against the wall.

A few moments later, he heard footsteps coming towards the room, the door clicking open. Yaku steeled himself to be lectured by a teacher, but when he opened his eyes, he instead saw Kuroo standing there. “Kuroo?”

“Yaku, thank god,” Kuroo said, relieved. “I saw you rush out, and when you didn’t answer my text, I went looking for you.” Yaku quirked an eyebrow, watching Kuroo walk over and sit in front of him. “Everything okay?”

Yaku leaned his chin on his knees, looking to the side. Were things okay? Well, the obvious answer was no, things weren’t. He had a massive crush on his best friend, and it was far worse than he’d thought. He was stuck at prom -- something he didn’t even want to go to in the first place -- because Kuroo had gotten him to go. Nothing was okay, and it was because of Kuroo.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he lied. It wasn’t worth telling Kuroo any of it. He wouldn’t understand.

Kuroo’s foot nudged his own, and Yaku looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

Yaku nodded, looking away. Kuroo nudged him again. “Kuroo,” he said, voice sounding as tired as he felt.

“What’s bothering you?” Kuroo asked, nudging his foot a third time. He sighed, looking up at him.

“Did you even plan on coming back to the table?” Yaku asked, regretting asking the instant he did. Kuroo furrowed his brow like he’d something stupid. Yaku shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even want to come out tonight. I’m not like you. I’m not popular or extroverted or whatever. I just want to leave.” His voice had grown quiet, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Kuroo.

Kuroo, however, nudged his foot, and kept nudging it until Yaku looked up at him. “What?!” he snapped, glaring at him.

“I did intend on coming back,” he said, pulling his foot back and sitting crossed legged. Yaku furrowed his brows. Kuroo sighed, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone. And believe it or not, I’m really not that popular.” There was a slight bitter tone in Kuroo’s voice, and Yaku sat up a little.

“You’ve got people pouring their hearts out to you everyday, how is that  _ not _ being popular?” Yaku said, wincing a little at his own bitterness.

Kuroo laughed, shaking his head. “They don’t like me. At least, not the parts that count. They just like the idea of being with me.” His voice trailed off, and he looked in his lap. “It gets a little lonely.”

In all the years they’d been friends, Yaku had never seen Kuroo like this. He looked vulnerable, as though made from thin, fragile glass. The kind that could break with the slightest of breezes. He didn’t like it.

“Oh,” Yaku said, looking away. It was all he could say. What was there to say? He was starting to think that maybe he didn’t know Kuroo like he thought he did.

“You want to leave?” Kuroo asked. Yaku looked over at him quickly, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m not having much fun here, anyway. It’s beautiful outside and it would be a shame to waste it inside with a bunch of students in a poorly decorated gym.”

Yaku snickered and nodded, and Kuroo smiled at him. He stood, offering him a hand, and Yaku took it, letting Kuroo pull him to his feet. He snatched his jacket from the floor, aware that Kuroo still had his hand, and they walked out of the classroom.

The hallway was still empty, and Yaku sighed a little in relief. He really didn’t need to get detention for being in a classroom. They walked to the parking lot, the cool Spring air making goosebumps criss cross over their skin.

“You were right, it is beautiful out here,” Yaku said, looking up at the full moon above them.

“Of course I was. When am I not?” Kuroo said, laughter lacing his voice. Yaku chose not to answer.

Instead, he let Kuroo pull him down the street, never letting go of Yaku’s hand. Not that he was complaining. It was nice, even if he wouldn’t admit it. It felt right, like his hand was meant to be in Kuroo’s. He pushed that thought away. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it.

They ended up at the park, and Kuroo let go of his hand (much to his disappointment). He walked over to the swings, sitting on the far one, and Yaku joined him, sitting to his left. They swung for a bit, reminding him of when they were in just starting high school and would come here after school to laugh about their classes.

“So,” Kuroo said, his voice carrying on the wind as he swung past Yaku. “Are you going to tell me the real reason you left the dance?”

Yaku looked at him, watching him fall backwards before propelling himself forward again. “I already did,” he said, kicking the ground.

“No, you gave an answer that you thought would satisfy me,” Kuroo said, digging his feet into the ground. Yaku opened his mouth to respond, but Kuroo shook his head. “Give me some more credit. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know when you’re lying to me.” He straddled the swing, looking Yaku square in the eyes. “Or when you’re not telling me something.”

He bit his lip, looking up at the sky. Even from here, he could see Orion’s belt, his eyes following the outline of the constellation. “Why did you go to the dance on your own?” Yaku said finally.

“Yaku--”

“Kuroo,” Yaku cut him off, turning to look at him. “Answer the question.”

Kuroo sighed, leaning against the chain. “A lot of girls asked me, and a few guys, too. And yeah, it was flattering, knowing that so many people wanted to go with me, but there was someone that I wanted to go with.” A sour taste filled Yaku’s mouth, but he stayed quiet.

“I was hoping he would get the hint that I wanted to go with him. It wasn’t like I was very subtle. But he never seemed to get it. So the only thing I could think to do was go by myself and hope he’d get the hint that way.” Kuroo laughed, leaning back. “Unfortunately, he didn’t.”

The only thing Yaku could focus on was the fact that Kuroo kept saying ‘he’. He had to mean Kenma, right? But Kenma looked like he’d gone with Lev. So then who was he talking about?

“You know, I’m actually surprised he didn’t realize it. I mean, he didn’t want to go in the first place. I was really excited when I saw him there. Thought maybe I’d get the chance to tell him.” Kuroo leaned forward again, smiling softly. “And maybe I still do.”

Yaku’s heart was beating loudly in his ears. His stomach was doing flips, and his mouth felt dry. Kuroo looked at him with a warm gaze, and Yaku had an inkling of hope that he was talking about him. But he was scared to let himself actually hope.

He blinked, and suddenly Kuroo was closer to him. “I doubt he’d believe me, though,” he said quietly, his gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. Yaku blinked again, and Kuroo was impossibly close. “I might have to show him.”

Kuroo’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it was much louder in the quiet of the park. Yaku swallowed, his eyes flicking down to Kuroo’s lips. He heard him chuckle, and he blinked. Kuroo’s was suddenly almost too close, his breath fanning over his face. “I hope he doesn’t mind if I do.”

Yaku wasn’t aware that he was shaking his head until he heard Kuroo chuckle, closing the gap between them. He instinctively closed his eyes, sinking into the kiss a little. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d get to kiss Kuroo. He was surprised at how soft his lips were.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, and when Kuroo pulled away, Yaku caught himself before he could chase after him. “So? Did he finally get the hint?” Kuroo asked, humour lacing his voice. All Yaku could do was nod. “Good, I’m glad he finally did.”

He blinked out of his stupor, and opened his mouth to say something, but a raindrop hit his cheek. Yaku looked up, flinching as another hit him. When had it gotten cloudy? A third, and a fourth hit him, and soon it had started to downpour.

Kuroo laughed, standing suddenly. He pulled Yaku up with him, nearly pulling him over, and they stumbled over to the soccer field. “Kuroo, we should really get out of the rain,” Yaku said, trying to steer them to the gazebo.

“And miss out on dancing in the rain? No way in hell I’m missing this,” Kuroo said, tightening his grip on Yaku. He tried to pull away, but Kuroo’s grip was ironclad. He sighed, letting himself be pulled to the grass.

He had to admit, though, that he had imagined moments like this. Not necessarily with Kuroo, but with a faceless figure. He’d thought about how romantic it’d be, and how it would inevitably lead to the cliché kiss in the rain. But despite everything, Yaku was one for clichés.

And cliché he got. They’d only been dancing for a minute when Kuroo pulled him close, looking down at him. “Can I?” he whispered, one cupping his cheek. Yaku answered by leaning up and kissing him.

Kuroo chuckled, leaning down to meet him, and pulled him closer. He was warm under the cool rain, and goosebumps ran over Yaku’s skin. He shivered a little, and Kuroo pulled away, keeping him close. “Maybe we should get to our cars.”

Yaku nodded, staying close to Kuroo as they jogged back to the parking lot. The dance was still going strong despite the rain, but instead of going in, they settled in Kuroo’s car, the heat cranked all the way up. Yaku sank back in the seat, closing his eyes.

He yawned, and Kuroo chuckled. “Are you really that tired?”

“Fuck you, crowds are exhausting,” Yaku said, flipping him off.

It was quiet for a moment before Kuroo spoke. “Hey, Yaku?” Yaku hummed. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Yaku’s eyes flew open, and he turned to Kuroo quickly. His face was bright red and he was chewing his bottom lip. “You ask me that  _ after _ you kiss me?”

Kuroo smiled sheepishly. “Oops?”

“You are such an idiot,” Yaku said, and after a moment, he continued. “Yes, I will.” He heard Kuroo laugh, and he rolled his eyes. “Now then, you owe me ice cream for making me go to prom  _ and _ keeping me out in the rain.

“How is that fair?” Kuroo scoffed.

Yaku gave him a look. “Because I didn’t want to go to prom to begin with, and if I get a cold, I’m blaming you."

Kuroo grumbled, but he started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. “Some boyfriend you are.”

Yaku’s face burned and he sank lower in the seat, hiding his smile. He hadn’t ever imagined hearing Kuroo call him his boyfriend, but he really liked it. A lot.

Maybe prom wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
